Stupid Happy Endings
by seriousish
Summary: Cabin In The Woods fic. The Apocalypse ain't what it used to be.


Most people think the world's going to end someday. Few people realize that the world already has ended. Like, a lot. One theory goes that the first world was populated by beings of advanced intellect, who melded technology and spiritual enlightenment to ascend to a higher plane of existence, having already conquered war, disease, inequality, and famine. Then they started making lesser beings offer pagan sacrifices to them. Yeah, that doesn't track with most people. The second world (or first, if you subscribe to the Ancient Ones being timeless and ageless and tentacle-y) was more traditional. Apes came down from the trees, apes shaved, apes put on pants. The Ancient Ones told humanity to throw girls into volcanoes. It worked pretty well, when the volcanoes didn't go extinct, since without the lava you might as well throw a girl off a cliff. For a time, humanity flourished, except for some of the girls. But one day, a young hero fell in love with the girl who was to be sacrificed. He rallied the people of Ogloak, rebelled against the slave masters of Salasin, and rescued the fair maiden from the dragon. So the Ancient Ones killed them all. The apes didn't take the hint. They evolved against, shaved again, put on pants again. The Ancient Ones, not being very creative at this point, used their mastery of life and death to create zombies. Yes, they are that old. Humanity was forced to feed someone to the growing horde every year until, figuring that zombies were slow and easy to kill, humanity told the Ancient Ones to take a jump. The Ancient Ones made the zombies fast and that was that. Yes, fast zombies are that old. Man came down from the trees, man shaved, man did not put on pants. Emboldened by their lack of clothing, the nudists created a scientific utopia, their every whim catered to by robots. They even programmed the robots to take care of the virgin sacrifices. You can guess how that went. After the robot holocaust, the Ancient Ones saved one of the less sexy Killinator units and waited for mankind to arise again. But this time, dinosaurs took over the Earth. The Ancient Ones weren't picky. They demanded dinosaur sacrifices. The dinosaurs got tired of it and went to war with the evil gods. And yes, it was fucking awesome. The Devilsaurus was all that the Ancient Ones left alive. Later incarnations of humanity would take it as just a dinosaur, but really, it was a pedophiliac dinosaur serial killer. Now you know. After that, humanity was wiped out by Triffids, or as the Americans called them, molesting trees. Best to skip over that one. Then came the Buckners. That worked out pretty well until the Soviets nuked everybody. Just one of those things. The Ancient Ones preserved the Buckners and waited for the Geiger counters to stop ticking. Similar story with Kevin. If you want to survive a viral epidemic, try being a psychotic serial killer. Things went on like that for a while. Humanity died at the hands of giant spiders, killer clowns from outer space, and mermen invasions. But a funny thing happened on the way to the Apocalypse. Every time, man lasted longer. It went from taking three centuries for the system to crash to thirty. Until finally, a Fool lived when he was supposed to die and a hundred-foot colossus pulled itself out of a camping ground. That would've been enough to deal with bows and arrows, but mankind had taken the Ancient Ones' lessons to heart. They'd become as proficient at killing as their monsters. And the gods were hit with Howitzer shells and cluster bombs and 30mm cannons. The North American Ancient reaped a total of one tristate area before being put down. Then the others took their turn. All the gods and demons, the kami and oni, the spirits and, yeah, dread fucking Cthulu. And in the face of all-encompassing terror, humanity banded together. The people of Earth put aside their differences. They forgot racial prejudices, religious differences, and national politics. For the first time in history, mankind was united. It wasn't as cool as the dinosaur war, but still, pretty neat. It wasn't enough—I mean, c'mon, Cthulu-but after ten years of war and a couple hundred nukes, the Ancient Ones were as bad off as the humans. And just like all the B-movie taglines had prophesized, humanity was an endangered species. Moment of lyricism: people always forget that at the bottom of Pandora's Box was hope. There were some among the gods who were happy to slumber, taking the sound of shiny happy people as a lullaby. They didn't need blood sacrifices and they didn't fight in the war against humanity. When the evil gods returned to the earth to begin the cycle anew, they were ambushed. Stalked. Hunted down. The celestial equivalent of a chainsaw might've been involved. And the remaining gods decided to be a blessing on mankind instead of a curse, guiding man through darkness and toward the light. They survive to this day, praised and sung about. You got it—Thor and the Asgardians. Humanity rose up from the ashes, like it always did, and did what it had always done. Shaved, and pulled up its pants. Year after year rolled by with no sacrifice. Some of the intended victims died anyway. Some of them had long, full lives of interest to no one but themselves and their families. A few did terrible things of their own, but they weren't Hitler or anything. This isn't a Twilight Zone episode. And one day, early in the 21st (or 625th) century, Dana, Jules, Curt, Holden, and Jerry went on a camping trip. A man with a cool dog gave them directions at a gas station they stopped at. Jules got drunk and let a stuffed wolf motorboat her, then she and Curt had lots of sex. Jerry got super-high and wondered if the endless combat in Valhalla wasn't a videogame tournament. Dana kissed Holden, but then he told her he was mostly gay and mainly came on the trip to see about a threesome with Curt. So she got high with Jerry and told him he'd be cute if he stopped toking long enough to shave. In the basement, they found an old foosball table. After a weekend of premarital sex, recreational drug use, binge drinking, and foosball, Curt made a toast with the last of the keg. "God save the queen!" And there were five survivors. 


End file.
